Emancipation
by Thanatos-Aire
Summary: 123vari. Profanity, vague lime, violence. Heero helps free his comrades from childhood demons while overlooking his own.
1. Death

I hate posting serials when they're not finished 'cause I have problems with writer's block and don't want to leave readers hanging for a year, but I've got enough done of this to last to June which should be enough time to finish a few more chapters. But yeah, so I'm posting a part each week in hopes of getting some good feedback to help with the parts I'm stuck on so I actually finish this instead of letting WB leave it ending-less in a back folder somewhere collecting dust for a decade before I work on it again. Let's hope I don't regret this. 

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Emancipation 

Thanatos-Aire 

8, December, 2004 

GW is not mine. If it was, do you really think I'd stick around in this hellhole of a town to put up with idiots at my barely-legal community college? 

Strangely enough, this story is a bit sappy… Which coming from me is unusual enough, but coupled with the fact that it's quite gory and violent as well is a bit disconcerting, I'm sure. Heero POV, past abuse, past NCS, non-het (1x2x3 of all variations), some swearing, death (not MCC), a bit angst-ridden, and to top it all off, a smattering of lime. Enjoy.

* * *

_They dropped like Flakes, they dropped like Stars,  
Like Petals from a Rose,  
When suddenly across the June  
A Wind with Fingers goes.  
They Perished in the seamless Grass, --  
No Eye could find the Lace;  
But God on his repealless List  
Can summon every Face.  
--Emily Dickinson_

* * *

I. Death. 

.

.

The gurgling quiets as the blood slows. 

Closing my eyes as I take in a deep breath, I nod to myself. When I turn to Duo, I find him staring at the gaping throat of the body on the floor before us. 

Like the twenty-two times before, he stands there, calm and wide-eyed, just staring and thinking. I watch as a thin trail of brine tracks down his cheek from eye to chin. The tear dangles for a moment on his jaw before leaping onto the bloodied knife-blade in Duo's hand. 

"Are you alright?" I whisper, shifting to stand beside him. "You've never cried for the others… Why is this one any different?" 

Duo closes his eyes and his lips part to release a ragged sigh. "He was the last." 

It takes me a moment to understand what his whispered reply signifies. But when I do, I slip an arm around his shoulders and the other around his thin waist to hug him tightly. 

"It's done." he murmurs, clutching at me. "He was the last, there are no more." 

And I nod. "Let's go. I'll wash your braid before bed, okay?" 

Duo nods distractedly, allowing me to take the knife from his limp hand. "Home. Let's go home, Heero." 

I nod again silently and press a chaste kiss to his temple as I lead him away. 

We leave the body there, on the floor, like all the rest. When we returned to our little house next door to Hilde a few hours' drive away from here, the dented antique butterfly knife would be rinsed of the man's blood. 

One last time, we would clean it of the crimson stains, and then, unlike the other twenty-two nights, the knife would be placed in the shoebox on the top shelf of the bedroom closet. 

Hopefully, it would remain there for several decades, untouched again, unsullied again. 

Duo's shoebox would be taped shut and shoved into the far back corner. Like the painful memories it represented, it wouldn't be delved into anytime soon. 

Now, if only I could rinse the smell of death from his braid…

* * *

to be continued 

(I'm hoping to post every Friday, so part two should be up on the thirtieth, 'kay?) 


	2. Home

Emancipation 

Thanatos-Aire

* * *

II. Home. 

. 

. 

. 

Trowa greets us quietly as usual when we arrive well past midnight. It had been the same, twenty-two times before. He opens the door, takes our bags, hugs us tightly though briefly, and shoos us into the bathroom. 

It is disheartening how the ritual has become easier. It has been committed to memory. There should not have been a reason to allow that. But tonight is the last time we shall have to do this, and I am grateful. 

As I wash Duo's hair, watching him sleep relaxed in the tub curled up under the foam of lilac bubble-bath, Trowa appears like the ghost he is. Silent and quick, I'd swear he's actually popped up before my eyes from literally nowhere before if it weren't for the fact that I know it's impossible. 

He is barefoot as usual, in dark jeans and a black turtleneck tonight. He looks good, though a bit guarded. I think maybe Trowa is itching for interaction -- Duo and I've been gone since yesterday morning; he must be feeling a little lonely. He sits on the lidded toilet beside me where I squat on a low stool, and reaches out to pet my hair. "Dinner?" he whispers, his other hand sliding down into the tub to find one of Duo's and squeeze it. 

I shake my head. "Duo is tired. Tonight was his last… I think it would be best if we let him sleep a full night." He blinks, searching my face intently. But my expression is blank bar the crease in my forehead. Damned worry-line. 

Trowa nods quietly though, his fingers tangled in my hair and Duo's own long digits. I know even with my face void of anything at all, he can still read me. He's better than Duo, though I think it's not because we're closer but because he and I share the same masks. Duo too has one, but his is different, and we have a harder time reading him because we are so used to our own. Most days lately, the three of us can put our masks away when we are alone with each other; tonight is different. And we unconsciously understand that. 

We sit together for several minutes, silent and reflective. Trowa helps me rinse and towel-dry Duo's hair and body and we carry him together to the second bedroom. He braids the wet tresses as usual while I fold the blankets over the pale body so marred with scars. 

We are the same, Duo and Trowa and I. No family, no home, our childhoods were merely years of survival made worse by other people. Older, stronger, twisted people who hurt us badly. Maybe that is why we are comfortable only with each other, safe and secure in each other's company. We are the same. We understand. Maybe that is why we are together. Though, I don't think people mean getting over being abused and nightmare-ridden when they say lovers should share common interests and experiences. 

Tonight, Duo has finished ridding himself of those who hurt him the worst: Soldiers for the Alliance who burned his orphanage, forcing him back to the street without even a friend; corrupt cops who traded years worth of jail-time because of his thieving for a go at his broken body, demanding trysts randomly on the street and blackmailing him with it; bureaucrats who turned the other cheek when his schools were shut down for lack of funds, forcing Doctor G to take time from his combat training to teach Duo math and reading; doctors who refused to offer discounts on the medication to prevent and cure the plague that killed his penniless gang, causing his 'siblings' and father-figure to die in his arms in derelict alleys. 

He has taken from everyone who has taken from him, has freed himself from their tight hold. Perhaps tonight he will find peace in his sleep instead of the common nightmares. 

Tonight, maybe Duo's scars will finish healing. And tomorrow -- maybe, hopefully -- tomorrow, I'll be able to help Trowa with his own liberation.

* * *

to be continued 


	3. Comfortable

Emancipation 

Thanatos-Aire

* * *

III. Comfortable. 

. 

. 

Trowa turns off the light in the kitchen, leaving his novel facedown on the island counter. He's already unpacked our travel bags, the clothes in the wash with the toiletries in the bathroom, so I only have to lock up the front door and set the security system. We walk together back up the steps, past the bathroom on the right, past the second bedroom on the left. 

The master bedroom is dark even with the light from the hallway, so Trowa turns on a small lamp on a bedside table. We change silently into our pajamas: I in soft cotton boxers, and he in an undershirt tank with flannel sleep-pants. The door remains open, as has the door to the second bedroom where Duo is, but I turn out the lamp next to the king-sized bed. 

We crawl in, abandoning our usual spots to compromise Duo's in the centre of the wide mattress, and curl up together. Chest to chest with our legs entangled and a quilt loose about our waists, it is comfortable. 

I have never been comfortable with anyone else like this before. I doubt I ever will. 

"Heero?" Trowa murmurs in my ear, breath flipping through my hair. I slither an arm under him to wrap over his torso, my other hand resting lightly on his hip. 

"Hm?" 

He shifts, pulling me closer and pushing me onto my back at the same time. "Do you think Duo'd be upset if we… went on without him tonight?" 

I blink, trying to understand that statement in all logical levels of meaning. It takes a few moments, "Most likely not. We've had sex in pairs before; I thought we decided in the beginning that it was okay, that it was easier, and a bit dumb to wait for the few chances of all three of us together." 

Trowa nods languidly, a hand coming up to tease my bangs. "I know, I remember. But, I meant… Tonight. I know you want him to sleep well tonight, and for the same reasons I thought he would like to be on top of both of us… You know, to kind of complete the whole… thing…?" 

I nod, understanding where he is coming from. "Tomorrow. I'll cook his chicken noodle soup and we'll have some wine and pull out the good sheets to celebrate. But tonight, I think…" I look up at his face, searching it, touching his cheek gently. His eyes, a million shades of green in a million layers of depth, are steady on my own face. "I know you must feel lonely on these nights, without us here or here without really being here…" 

His cheeks paint themselves pink, dark eyelashes hiding the sea-glass colour of his eyes as he looks down. Trowa and I aren't ones to yearn for attention, but sometimes, sometimes we'd like to give into the urge to. I lean up to kiss him on the mouth, a tender connection of lips. "You're probably going to end up being middle tomorrow," he hums, hands smoothing my chest even as he scoots away to lean over me. 

I nod, shrugging, a hand on the base of his neck to pull him down for a more involved kiss. "Then I'm going to be sore and content tomorrow." His blush deepens, still uneasy with the topic of sex, but then Trowa's ontop of me, teeth grazing my earlobe with long, talented fingers working between my legs, and I don't notice much from then out. 

No, I don't think I'll ever be this comfortable with anyone but them.

* * *

to be continued 


	4. Morning

Emancipation 

Thanatos-Aire

* * *

IV. Morning. 

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. 

.

When I wake up, Trowa is gone. 

I roll over, planning on catching the time from the bedside alarm-clock, but find myself not alone in the huge bed. 

Duo lies on his stomach with his face turned to me, mouth open to allow his soft, short snores release. Limbs akimbo and braid sprawled across the mattress, I cannot help but smile. He looks so relaxed, content as he dozes with a goofy grin. His dreams must have been pleasant last night for him to be so at ease. 

I cannot remember the last time he slept like this, so open, honest, exposed. Even when his face is not marred by a knitted brow or lips twisted into a growl, Duo sleeps curled up and hunched in, taking up very little space. He likes to hold his braid, arms crossed over his chest as if in protection or comfort. He rarely sleeps like this, and I am glad he is doing so now. 

It means he feels safe, he's not haunted. 

It means Shinigami has left his ravaged soul to heal. 

I lean over and kiss his forehead softly. He snuffles, nose twitching, and mutters something about but-terflies. I smile again, watching him for a few more moments. Then I roll the other way, crossing the expanse of the mattress to Trowa's side, and get out of bed. My boxers are on the floor, but they are dirty from the late-night activity I barely feel, so I scoop them into the clothes hamper and find a pair of sweat-pants instead. 

I can hear Trowa moving about in the kitchen from the hall, a pot clanging on the stove and the fridge door's sucking noise as it opens and closes. This is another part of that ritual we no longer have to fol-low: Duo and I sleep in while Trowa makes us breakfast. He's probably already started the soup and I wonder if he'll be dressed from going out to buy a bottle of wine. 

By the time I reach the kitchen, he's not there anymore. His novel still sits on the island, though shoved off to the side to make room for the cutting board awaiting the boiling chicken. A stew pot and saucepan sit on the stove, the electric coils beneath them red with heat, and there's two plates with or-ange juice on the small table. There's also something in the oven, but before I can check it, Trowa ap-pears in the door to the stairs leading to the basement, on the other side of the table from me. 

He pauses there, obviously not expecting to see me. But Trowa smiles and comes up to drop his load of jarred vegetables on the counter and then wraps me up in a hug. "Morning," he says, voice a bit thick from not using it since last night. 

I embrace him back, taking in the deep aroma of vanilla musk and spiced orange that is his unique scent. He's wearing the clothes he had on last night, the black turtleneck and blue-jeans, but with a worn pair of black sneakers I think are Duo's. He's even washed his hair this morning, so it's soft and shining and fluffy. 

He lets me kiss him on the mouth with my morning breath before letting go to turn back to his canned vegetables. 

Today feels like it's going to be a nice, relaxed one.

* * *

to be continued 


	5. Triangle

Emancipation 

Thanatos-Aire

* * *

V. Triangle. 

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. 

.

I'm rinsing my plate in the sink when Duo comes in. 

His hair's been rebraided neatly with a purple ribbon on the end, and he's dressed in tight black jeans and construction boots. His tank top, tucked into his jeans, is the same colour as his eyes, and both Trowa and I take a moment to appreciate how good he looks. 

Duo catches the lingering eyes and smirks. "Good mor-nin', darlin's," he sings, sliding into the near-est chair at the table and picking up the fork Trowa left for him. 

I leave my dishes in the sink and go to stand behind him. Clasping his shoulder, I lean over to kiss his mouth already full with toast. He has to tilt his head backwards, viewing me upside-down, and the ac-tion reveals a long white neck. I brush it slightly with the knuckles of my other hand, feeling him shudder beneath me. 

Trowa's busy with whatever he's doing to his canned vegetables, but I feel him watching as Duo and I share a moment. I have the feeling they've already had their morning moment, when I was sleeping and Duo was crawling into bed with me while Trowa crawled out. 

It still feels odd sometimes, not knowing if things have been equal between us three. In the beginning, we decided on rules outlining that indeed, we didn't have to be fair as in keeping track of every kiss or every fuck, but the thoughts still come. Not the jealous feelings while watching the two of them to-gether, but the torn ones when I'm with one and the other's left out. Did I make sure to show or tell him that I love him just as much or is he feeling out of place? Does he know his kiss is next, or that this one is evening it out for the other? 

We've had this discussion already and I know the three of us are content with the arrangement and know that we are equal in our triangle, but sometimes I still wonder. It's hard to be the third wheel, and even harder to watch a lover be one. 

So, because my morning kiss today with Trowa was a simple, quick little thing, I make sure mine with Duo is the same. Tiny things like that make me feel better about the whole 'being fair' thing. 

"I'm off for a shower," I announce, letting my hands release my braided partner. "And then I was go-ing to do the laundry. Any requests?" 

"Mmh, darks," Duo replies with a lazy grin as he reaches for his orange juice. "Thanks, darlin'," I snort, of course he wants his clothes washed. I think between the three of us, there's only one load of whites a week, but Duo claims ownership to two of the three loads of black. 

Trowa gives a faint smile at Duo's answer. "The bed sheets," he says, bustling back to the stove to check the pots and oven. Both the king-sized bed in the master room and the twin-sized in the guest room need the sheets washed and changed, and probably the mattresses flipped as well so they don't get worn unevenly like car tires do. 

I remember my remark about the 'good sheets' last night, and nod with a smile. The red Egyptian-cotton bedcovers are in the bedroom closet on the lower shelf. They've sat there since Christmas Eve, the anniversary of the war's end and the last time we had a planned threesome. 

Well, whatever imbalances the three of us had is all going to be scaled and brought level tonight.

* * *

to be continued 


	6. Together

Emancipation 

Thanatos-Aire

* * *

VI. Together. 

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I pause in my typing, listening to the sounds filtering through the wall behind me. Duo is humming as he washes the dishes from lunch, occasionally making a comment to Trowa, who was sitting at the is-land with his novel the last time I peeked in. 

They seem cheerful, and I am glad. I was worried last night that my braided lover would become sul-len and snappy for the week like he usually does after one of our nights out. Trowa too becomes de-pressively silent, as if he shares our lover's pain. But last night was Duo's last -- he has reason to be happy, and from what I've gleaned about Trowa's own haunting childhood, the pain they share runs deep and he is glad for him. 

I would like nothing more than to let Trowa have his own day with Duo sharing in. But I can find little to nothing of use. Pushing my laptop away, frustrated with the lack of leads on Trowa's old mercenary groups, I all but stomp into the kitchen. I get matching glances, both concerned at my behaviour, as I throw open the fridge and rummage around for some of the iced coffee Duo sometimes brings home. 

Hilde buys it for him, since Trowa and I refuse to, but lately he's been good about his sugar and caf-feine intake so I know there has to be one in the fridge somewhere-- 

"You okay there, darlin'?" I don't pull the glare back in time before Duo notices. "Shit, sorry I asked. Wake up in someone else's side of the bed this morning?" 

I grumble something about the comment not being funny and finally find a bottle. Iced coffee, mocha flavoured. Good, it's the only flavour that doesn't make me gag. The fridge door slams rather loudly even though I barely touched it, and Trowa jumps, his book hitting the counter with a resounding smack. 

Great. Now I feel even worse. 

The anger and frustration melt away as I turn to look at him to make sure he's okay. He's turned too, away from us so we can't see him school his features back from the startled, short-lived burst of fear expression I know crossed his face. Damn, I scared him. 

Home is suppose to be safe; such an intrusion on the quiet moment is worse when you're in sanctuary. 

"Sorry," I mutter, and throw one arm around each neck to pull my comrades into a hug. Feeling a bit of a bastard for scaring them for no reason, I kiss both on the cheek before attempting to leave. I intend to return to the smaller bedroom with my laptop and coffee and work on this case some more, but two hands clasp each elbow and I am unable to get away. 

Trowa's got his blank face on again, still feeling a bit unsettled with the loud sudden noise earlier no doubt. Duo too has a solemn expression, but they both lean in to kiss me as if I hadn't just acted like an asshole. These three-way kisses are interesting, especially nose placement, but it doesn't last long as they both abandon my lips. Trowa takes an earlobe and Duo nibbles on my throat, both pushing and pulling at me and each other. 

After I begin to return the actions, leaning heavily against the table with my French lover sitting on one side and my American lover standing on the other, they become more insistent. As one, we shift, and start for the stairs, still wrapped up in one another's clothes, hair, lips. 

Trowa's novel lays forgotten on the island. Duo's dishes are on hiatus in the sink. And my laptop re-mains useless for the information that's made it's way to the back of my mind at the moment.

* * *

to be continued 


	7. Balance

Emancipation 

Thanatos-Aire 

VII. Balance.

* * *

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. 

.

It is the easiest way to do this, I remind myself. Never the less, I feel bored with the position and want to do something different. 

But no -- this is in celebration of Duo's lack of demons. We do it his way tonight, no questions asked. 

As Trowa predicted last night, I end up as middle. I always do, I shouldn't be surprised anymore when they gang up to make a Heero Sandwich. But I don't really mind tonight. 

Like I said, Duo's in charge tonight. Besides, with the double assault, there shouldn't be room in my mind for the frustration at my laptop. I need to write a better search program, I think. I spent hours today combing through everything I could for information on the men who haunt Trowa's dreams, but came up with nothing. 

At the moment though, I don't think he could care less. 

Beneath me, my taller partner writhes, head lolled back exposing his white throat. His long hands grip my shoulders from behind, digging his short nails into my skin. Trowa makes the hottest noises I've ever heard when the three of us are together -- tiny keening half-gasps that just stoke the heat more. 

Duo, for as vocal as he is normally, is on the quiet side during our times together like this. He grunts, lips parted to take in harshly ragged breaths, but that's it. Other than roughly whispered directions, my braided lover is nearly silent. His hands are on my hips, pushing and pulling in the opposite rhythm his own are moving in so that we meet in the middle. 

In all respects, I am basically nothing but a seesaw. A teeter-totter between the two of them like this. 

Actually, I feel this way a lot outside of sex. It's that damned unfair triangle thing again, I know, but I still can't help but think to myself that I always end up between the two of them. 

In Trowa's silence and Duo's noise, I am the middle ground. In Duo's organised-chaos and Trowa's OCD neatness, I stand at the centre. I cook better than my Anglo lover but not as good as my Latin one, and hack better than my fringed lover but not as well as my braided one. 

Where they complement each other in fluid, graceful, long-limbed but untraditional fighting skills of dodging and stealth, I am different in my rigidly strict training of using quick and heavy, strength-centric martial-arts. 

I am unlike them yet exactly the same as them in that I had a place to stay during childhood, Trowa didn't, but had no one who cared for my well-being further than my usefulness, unlike Duo. 

I have no idea where this three-pointed spectrum ends, as thinking of it too much tends to depress me. I should be glad I have them now, that they have me now. But instead, I worry too much about the future when/if they will let me go or I drive them away. 

But for now, I am content being between Trowa's soft noises and Duo's loud silence, especially when the controllessness of my position leads to three sets of pleasurable spasms. Besides, it's Duo's night and who am I to ask for something other than what he wants?

* * *

to be continued 

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(Author's Notes:  
So I didn't update last week and I apologise for that. Real life is teh total suckage right now and I was too depressed to fight with bizarre uploading issues. Furthermore, I'm completely frustrated with writer's block issues. sweatdrop  
But anyway, I wanna thank you guys for the reviews. They help and are utterly appreciated even if I'm too lazy to reply back and say so personally.   
-Aire ♥) 


	8. Night

Emancipation 

Thanatos-Aire

* * *

VIII. Night. 

. 

. 

. 

It's quiet. 

Oddly enough, it usually is in our small house, but this is different. This is that serene, tranquil quiet that's quiet because it's peaceful not because there's just a lack of noise. 

It's evening, twilight. There's a soft pattering of rain against the windows and roof, which makes the silence in the house even more noticeable. I like these nights, all to myself in the stillness. 

Trowa's dozing in bed still; he likes to sleep after sex, just a little nap that completes the feel of being safe at home with one's lovers. Duo had gotten up to finish the dishes, and I took my laptop and not-so-chilled iced coffee up to the second bedroom after cleaning up most of the mess. It didn't really matter; I have a feeling the three of us are going to test the bedsprings again later. 

But for now, it's just me and my computer and the rain in the soft solitude. I opened the window and the rain smells fresh as always but also a bit salty, from the ocean downhill. I love that smell; it reminds me of my lovers since we spent the more significant times together on the ocean. 

It's the only thing that's keeping me from smacking my computer in frustration right now. 

I can't find anything of use on Trowa's background. There are only references to the mercenary corps I barely remember him mentioning, no trails from people who should have been involved, no leads anywhere. I even hacked his friend Ralph's accounts but found nothing to guide me elsewhere. 

Maybe I should ask. 

On second thought, no. The three of us have only ever gone into our pasts -- however vague -- with each other once, and it's a bit of an unspoken rule that we don't delve too deep again. The twenty-three nights with Duo and his heirloom butterfly knife were no exception. I don't know who they were or what they did, just that they deserved death and would receive it from my Shinigami. 

My nights with Trowa will be the same, if I ever get enough information to start our travels. 

… Does Trowa know? He hasn't said anything, ever, about wanting to get rid of his demons. Maybe he doesn't know that I want to help. Maybe… maybe there's nothing left to help with. 

It's a sudden and depressing train of thought. If Trowa had left the same nights Duo and I did to fulfil his own secession; if these men I'm looking for have already been killed or jailed; if… if his horrors are simply of his imagination…? No, they're real, I know they are. I've seen the scars, both physically and psychologically. 

But then why can't I find anything, goddammit? The most I have is a few newspaper articles hinting at an incident in the woods of France, a couple bare death certificates from the war, and hazy memories of Trowa's vague childhood stories. It's not enough. There are no names save three and a half, but they were friends. There are no definite descriptions on mercenary groups being massacred save one incident on L-2 fifty-some years ago. 

There is nothing I can use to track down these people who've hurt my withdrawn Doukeshi. 

There's only my room-temperature coffee beside my laptop in a quiet room with the rain pattering at the window and a hollow feeling in my gut.

* * *

to be continued 

.

( Author's Note:  
I guess I have to say something about the whole Tro's ethnic background thing while I'm at it, just to clear it up. While I do agree that Tro is officially Latin and from Europe, I took it upon myself to assign the more specific "French" as well for this and also for a few of my other fics. I do refer to him as Latin frequently in my writing, but sometimes it's easier to write other things (Like Ro's "Asian" instead of "Japanese" or Duo's "Anglo" as opposed to "American"). And France (as well as the other nationalities I sometimes write Tro as in other stories) is part of the "Latin / Western Europe" perimetres so it fits. It's just slight artistic license or whatever it's called.  
--Aire ) 


	9. Perfect

Emancipation 

Thanatos-Aire

* * *

(Note: This chapter includes a brief scene containing DPA, however vague. If it makes you that uncomfortable, you could skip this chapter, I guess, but it is kinda an important chapter that ties in a lot, later on, so…) 

IX. Perfect.

He looks at me evenly. "Duo wants to know where your handcuffs are." he repeats. "His are at work and mine still haven't been fixed since that drug ring assignment three weeks ago."

"Why does Duo want my handcuffs? What does he need them for?"

My laptop's been in sleep mode for the past sixteen minutes. I'm not quite sure if that's a good thing, since maybe Trowa would see my project and offer help. But I'm not thinking about that too much at the moment: Trowa is standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of Duo's cut-off jean shorts.

The button isn't even done, they're so tight.

Trowa notices my gaze and tosses back his hair. "That," he says, in a low voice. My eyes snap up to his face to find a small smile. He tilts his head down to look at me through dark lashes. "Duo wants to cuff you to the bed. If he can't get the handcuffs, he's resorting to the nylon rope from the rock-climbing gear and--"

"Like hell he's giving me friction-burn with those ropes." I stand up and cross to him, slipping my index fingers into the beltloops at his hips to drag him against me as our mouths crush together. His long hand cups one of my shoulder-blades as the other moves down to my butt. "If Duo wants me tied to the bed, where exactly does he want you?"

"As the other bread-slice in a sex sandwich," comes a teasing voice from the doorway behind Trowa. "I'm the meat of course."

I raise an eyebrow but Trowa just nods, looking down with a slight blush. It's obvious he wants to join in, but he still can't voice it. Another reason I want to track his bastards down like Duo's.

He gets another small kiss before I let go to grab a handful of Duo's naked rear as I pass by to the closet. He squeaks, surprised, but Trowa chuckles and replies how he should have seen it coming. I rummage through my workbag in the closet and find two pairs of metal cuffs.

Duo's grin grows bigger and a bit evil. "Two? That's even better."

Ten minutes later, Trowa and I are naked once again and giving each other matching looks of wariness. Our wrists have been cuffed to the other's, my left to his right and his left to my right as we face each other. He's kneeling over me as I lie on the big bed, and Duo's wriggling in in-between us now that he's finally done with the vaseline just outside my sight.

"This is perfect," he murmurs, licking and nipping all the flesh he can as he positions himself in the middle. He pushes back against Trowa who sits on his heels to wait. But then, unexpectedly, our braided lover sits down on me.

"What?" Trowa asks. I would have too, but Duo's sudden heat enveloping me is a bit startling.

He just grins and careens his neck back to kiss Trowa, a gummy hand moving back towards those pale hips behind his own. Duo leans forward as he pulls Tro down, and for a moment I think he's going make me middle, but instead, Tro comes up behind me and pushes in beside me.

Duo groans, face pressed into my chest. Trowa and I make similar noises: it's so tight…

"Yeah…" he mutters, breathing heavily. "This is perfect."

Trowa and I look at each other over a narrow shoulder and suddenly I understand. Both of us inside him: Duo is loved by the two of us, and this is a sort of tangible reflection of that.

I move one cuffed hand down to hold Tro's hip as Duo rocks up slowly, and his attached hand rests ontop of mine, giving it a little squeeze.

It _is_ perfect.

* * *

to be continued 

(( Author's Note:  
Er... Sorry. For a lot of things. Some of the last chapter's notes were uncalled for, I had lost my temper and was upset at things that I couldn't fix, so I apologise for that. ((I've also edited it for my sanity's sake.)) But also, it's been three months I think since I updated and that I had promised to update every Friday and all and I haven't been doing so. Unfortunately, I still can't, so this fic is only going to be updated sporadically, hopefully every two weeks if I manage, but... Yeah. So thanks for putting up with my shit and I promise plot explanations, loads of angst, and much better smut in the upcoming chapters. [hides  
-- Aire ))


	10. Nightmares Interlude I

Emancipation 

Thanatos-Aire 

X. Nightmares Interlude I 

. 

. 

. 

It was Duo who woke me up. I thought it would be Tro since he had napped already, but Duo must have been awakened since he was still in the middle. 

At first, it was nice. Mind-blowing sex left the three of us drowsy and we cuddled together in a pile to drift off into post-coital dreamscapes. Warm, almost fuzzy inside, I dropped off into a deep sleep for a while, but coming back up… 

It's kind of blurry, but the empty concaved feeling in my chest hasn't yet faded. I think I'm even on an adrenaline high from the nightmare. 

"You sure you're okay, darlin'?" Duo whispers, lips beside my ear as he hugs me tightly. For some reason, he holds me more after my nightmares. Like he thinks I only get them once in a while or something, or that the ones I wake up from are really really bad. 

It's not true. I have nightmares every other night, and I wake from even the not-so-scary ones. I'm just usually careful not to let him or Tro know. 

I nod and turn to my side to face him, and let myself clutch at his shoulder and hip. Tonight _was_ a bad one. 

Behind him, Trowa shifts, and a hand appears ontop of mine on Duo's hip. There's a murmured nothing-whisper in French, but I'm sure he's still asleep. The three of us are used to comforting each other at night; if we woke every time, we'd have dropped dead from exhaustion long ago. 

I've even seen Duo comfort Tro while having a nightmare himself. 

That really says a lot about my lovers, doesn't it? 

Duo's arm shifts up so that he can pet my hair gently. It's something that I've learned to love, having fingers running through my hair to rub at my scalp. It's comforting, soothing, a corporeal expression of refuge. "Tell me?" he breathes in my ear. 

I shake my head. There's no need for them to know the things that haunt my mind. Especially since tonight was another one about him. 

So I clasp onto him and whatever I can grab of Trowa, and cling. 

Sometimes dreams come true -- sometimes they are true. And sometimes, they were. Either way, I hate nightmares. 

to be continued 

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.  
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( Author's Note:  
Thanks for understanding and everything guys. On an off-topic note, Shenlong's fic competition ends on the thirty-first and I was wondering if anyone would be willing to beta the piece I'm working on. You'd have to be comfortable with male-on-male sex involving BDSM and blood. Email me if you're interested, even if you just want to know more first before deciding, I'd appreciate it a lot.   
--Aire ) 


	11. Unease

Emancipation 

Thanatos-Aire

* * *

(Chapters Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, and Fourteen follow a mini curtain-story thing that revolves around chiropractics. Please understand that only licensed DCs should perform adjustments and that Ro's presented experience is not typical.) 

XI. Unease. 

. 

. 

. 

I grunt. Trowa apologizes softly but doesn't lessen the pressure. 

Duo just rolls his eyes and smirks. "Y'know," he says, "for someone who gets mad when I complain about _my_ back being abused, you sure can't take it yourself." 

"C'mere and I'll show you abuse." I snap back, reaching out for him. He leans away with a chuckle, splashing some water out of the giant tub of the master bathroom, and I go to grab him again when Trowa's thumb gets right inside the juncture between my shoulder and upraised arm, and pushes the muscle. 

Duo laughs at my gasp. 

Trowa sighs, "Duo, I'm trying to work the knots out of his back--" 

"That you put there, no doubt," I cut in, addressing our braided lover, 

"--and I can't if he keeps moving around, so would you please stop instigating?" he finishes smoothly. He doesn't sound irritated and there's a faint hint of amusement in his voice. 

He just shrugs and nods like it's no big deal. "Want some help? I know a _real_ good way to loosen him up…" Duo replies in a creamy voice. If the smirk on his face is any indication, he's either planning on getting drunk, having more sex, or both. Knowing him, it's probably both at the same time, despite the fact that it's two in the morning. 

Apparently Tro understands it the same way I do: "Wrestling with you in bed is the reason his back is so messed up and I'd rather not bail you two out of jail for streaking smashed again." 

"Oi! I've never--" 

"Yes you have, Heero," they interrupt calmly in one voice. I go to glare at them but Trowa's palm-heels dig into the sensitive flesh around the lumbar vertebrae and I yelp, splashing water about; my lower back always bothered me the most. 

Trowa sighs again. "You're crooked _again_." 

"_Fuck_." 

Duo chuckles. "Does this mean I'm gonna havta hold ya down, darlin'?" 

This time, he does get the glare. And Trowa as well when he says yes and pushes my shoulders forward. "But, we're in the bath." I try to argue lamely, hands out to push against the side of the tub rim, "It's nice and if we get out now then… well… later?" I understand that I probably sound childish, but, I hate having my back adjusted. 

They look at each other knowingly, aware of my apprehension, and after a moment, they both nod and shrug. "Fine but we're holding you to it: later." Duo says pointedly with a raised brow. I lean back against Trowa again and he wraps his arms around my waist as he leans back too so we end up submerged in the bathwater to our shoulders. 

I nod and sigh in reply to Duo's asking brow, knowing I'm not getting out of it. 

But it doesn't stop me from wondering how long it'll take them to find me if I hide under the bed once we get out of the bath.

* * *

to be continued 


	12. Games

Emancipation 

Thanatos-Aire

* * *

XII. Games. 

. 

. 

. 

"Heero, this isn't funny." 

"Never said it was suppose to be." 

Duo laughs, the sound muffled slightly by the phone. But Trowa just sighs and argues back, "Heero, if you don't come here and let me adjust your back in the next five minutes…" 

The light in the second bedroom turns on. "Do I havta get Fei to come over?" Duo threatens after I don't answer. The house phone fizzles a little before the light turns off again. I'd've thought they would have caught me sneaking off to hide once we got out of the tub, but… 

"You promised you'd let me do it later," Trowa continues, voice stern. Something crashes in the background and I pull my cellphone away from my ear for a moment as it feedbacks. "It's later now, so c'mere." 

Duo laughs some more. "You didn't really think he'd make it easy, did you?" 

"I thought he'd be smart and not cause so much ruckus about it," Trowa shoots back, the racket of clattering pots sounding behind him. I grin, knowing full well I'm only safe for another ten minutes at the most. 

"Olly olly oxen free!" Duo shouts with a chuckle. "Hey, darlin' -- Marco!" 

"Polo." I reply into the phone and he laughs some more. He can't hear my voice from here, only through the phone so it won't give away my position. Not that I'm worried -- they haven't even checked the basement yet so I've still got plenty of time until-- 

There's a growl and a stomping noise and the smash of Trowa's receiver being hung up a little violently, and then Duo's voice comes over, "He's goin' down in the basement." 

"S'okay, I'm not there." 

"You want me to close the door behind him, lock 'im in?" 

I snort, "No, Duo, that's okay. He'll just get me back for it once he gets out so…" 

The living room lights come on, shining in through the window beside the front door. By the shadows, I can tell he's even looking through the curtains outside. "You're not at Hil's, are you, darlin'?" 

"I am where I am." 

"Ah, c'mon, Ro. You told me you weren't in the basement but you can't rule out Hil's house a whole gar'en away for me to walk to?" 

Before I can answer, there's a muffled scuff and a curse, then a bang and Trowa's voice over Duo's receiver, "You go out the front and I'll get the back, and we'll check the roof at the same time, alright?" 

I snort, "And leave the whole house empty for me to run and hide somewhere you already checked?" 

Duo laughs again, repeating my words, "He got you there, Tro." 

My poor, harried Latin lover... He growls and the back door slams. Duo laughs some more, "I'm leavin' too, Ro, you got about thirty seconds to move if you're still inside." The front door opens and the porch light fails to go off at the motion. But he's got a flashlight and I swear under my breath. 

I thought I'd have at least five more minutes. 

He checks the roof and casually walks back to the door with the light aimed at the bushes lining the house. I curse under my breath again and scuffle the phone a little to make it sound like I was running through the house to a new hiding place. 

But he catches the sound and turns towards the tree that sits in front of the second bedroom's window. Aw fuck. So I give him the oldest trick in the book and toss a twig towards Hil's driveway. The soft clatter attracts his attention and he heads off for it. 

No way I'm throwing the game now. 

Of course, if Trowa's curses from the kitchen are any indication, they probably don't see it as a game. Which is fine with me… until I get caught anyway…

* * *

to be continued 


	13. Anxiety

Thanatos-Aire 

Emancipation

* * *

XIII. Anxiety.

I hold my breath, squeezing my eyes shut.

Duo just sighs, half a chuckle but caught at the end like he knows better. "It's only what you get for making me bug Hil at three in the morning," He pushes down on my shoulders as Trowa shifts his own weight while getting ready to shift mine.

Tro grunts and his hands find my hips; he yanks and there's a resounding crack, then he heaves and another series of pops echoes. I gasp, hand spasming around the bedsheets beneath me.

I release the tension in my body, feeling unable to keep up the stiffness in muscles that seem so heavy and tiresome anyways. Lying limply on the small bed, I can't help breathing heavily as if having just ended an excursion. Duo frees my shoulders and quietly slides one hand into my mine; before I can do anything, Trowa pushes again, this time in the middle instead of the two wings, and the whole lumbar series of my vertebrae snaps back into alignment.

I can't catch the, "_Fuck_," as the wind's knocked out of me, and Duo's hand squeezes mine tightly. "I still can't believe," he voices softly, tone almost light, "that you were in the gutter the whole time."

Trowa's hands follow a trail up my spine to the middle of my back and I take in a deep breath just before he shoves down. "I mean, what the hell, Heero? Laying in the curb like some bag o' trash…" His voice is darker now, heavier and leaden. The humour of the game left before he dragged me up the stairs.

I grunt, and am unable to keep it from turning up at the end, making it sound like a whimper. Duo continues on, grasping my hand like he's in pain, "It can't be that bad, right? I mean, for you to run and hide and everything?"

Trowa heaves down between my shoulder blades and says, "Duo, we've already been through this. It's not suppose to hurt. I've done it on you before, remember?"

"Yeah, but, like, Ro's different. He doesn't get affected by things that hurt us, so maybe what doesn't hurt us hurts him," he argues back valiantly.

"Would you please stop talking about me like I'm not right here?" I complain, breathless, "And if I hear one more Superman joke, your braid is so--" I cut myself off as I turn my face towards him. Rarely does Duo let solemnity rule his expression, finding even the littlest hope and humour in anything no matter how bad; right now, his eyes are wide not in mirth or excitement, but in profound concern.

It's the first time I've seen his face during Trowa's chiropractic practices, so I'm not sure if today is only because I took the hide-and-seek game so far or if he does this every time. "Du--"

Tro's hands slip under me, groping my shoulder in the front before tugging violently with one hand beneath and one ontop. The pesky rib that always pops out snaps back into place with a crack, and for a moment, I feel nauseous. I swallow and start again.

"It doesn't hurt, Duo, it's just… uncomfortable. The body wasn't meant to have things moving around so much, you know?"

He frowns but nods. "So… why do you hate it so much?" Trowa pulls back to sit on his haunches, watching closely. He too wants to hear the answer to why I irritated the hell out of him earlier.

I struggle to find the words as I pull myself up to hands and knees. The muscles are a little sore but they'll be fine in a bit, and I reach for the glass of water on the nightstand. I think better of it and just shift around to curl up on the pillow beside Duo.

"'Cause you two watching me… I hate seeing you worry. And, and every time I flinch, it hurts you."

* * *

to be continued 


	14. Frail

Thanatos-Aire 

Emancipation

* * *

XIV. Frail.

"Shh,"

My chest hitches with the broken breath as I turn towards the sound of Trowa's voice. In the fuzzy grey plane of half-asleep-half-awake, my scattered mind clings still to the nightmare and I am unsure if he is really there. Feeling his warmth and solidness, and not finding blood in the fabric I cling to, I am able to rise fully from the lingering dream though slowly.

For a few sleep-dragging moments, I think we are still at war, that Trowa and I are hiding in European inns looking for a Noventa; the realisation we have come far from that comes quickly and gratefully. I allow myself to fall into him, knowing it is alright.

He looks wide-awake as he careens his neck over to kiss my forehead. I cannot stop the jerky gasps of air as I clutch at him, grasping his teeshirt with a grip that could rip the fabric; he only shifts closer, arms tightening around from where they had held me before I woke.

"It's okay, ma'cherie, shh, you're alright…"

My breath snags inside again as I shake my head, unable to voice my correction. Face pressed into his obliging clavicle, it takes a few minutes for me to calm down, struggling to get a hold of the emotions. The terror refuses to leave, no matter how I try to squash it, and I am still shaking violently inside Trowa's hold when Duo's voice comes.

"S'rry it took so long, hadta find my way through the mess of pots you left on the floor." The mattress behind me shifts with weight and a cold hand touches my temple. "Hey there, darlin', finally awake?" he whispers, voice sounding unusually hollow. I can't help the hitched whimper that forces itself into existence at his touch.

There's an immediate pause, everything going silent. I can feel them looking at each other, and finally they breathe again, Trowa's arms tightening even more as the bed dips with Duo getting in behind me. "Doctor J again?" one of them whispers; I'm too scattered to recognise the voice beyond the fact that it's safe.

It feels like the wind's been knocked out of me, chest tight and heaving with those damn catches that look like I'm flinching. Something cold and wet is laid on the nape of my neck and I shiver. "Calm down, darlin'," Duo admonishes quietly, petting my hair in another scalp massage, "It was just a dream, you're safe,"

By the time I manage to pull myself together, I realise I am not the only one with hitching breaths. "Tro, wha's wron'?" I slur, and feel the body behind shift as if he hadn't noticed Trowa was upset. There is no immediate reply save the tightened hold around my waist.

"Tro?" Duo asks, worry evident in his voice as his hand leaves my arm to card through the honey fringe of hair. Both their chests jump against my body, then I am uncomfortably squished between them as they both move in unison to squeeze each other.

He takes a long time to answer. "I, I did not mean to push…" he mumbles, squeezing me and clinging to Duo. "I'm sorry, I just… it's my fault, isn't it, your nightmare? You didn't want to but I forced--"

"No!" I grab his hair violently and tug, pulling his head back so I can kiss some sense into him. Our mouths crushed together, I split my lip on a tooth, but it means nothing. "You aren't to blame at all," I stress, glaring with all the sleep-diffused energy I can muster. "It," my voice chokes slightly but I quell it with all my might, "it's J. Nothing to do with you, I just lost myself, forgot we're here--"

Their confusion leads me to realise they have no idea about before, when I thought we were still pilots. It makes no difference though. "Really. I mean look, you calmed me down! That--" Fuck, my voice cracks again. I have so much trouble keeping myself strong now, much less in front of them.

Duo interrupts before I really lose it. "Okay, okay. C'mon, darlin' -- both o' ya -- we all agree that Ro's okay now and it had nothin' to do with the back adjustment, so Tro ain't to blame, right?" We both nod uncomfortably. "I mean it, if we need ta talk about this, then we will but over coffee. If not, then… well," He looks pointedly down at the pillows as far I can tell.

We nod again, Trowa sighing heavily and shifting even closer to me and Duo, and someone adjusts the blankets. They're both asleep in a few minutes, but I refuse to fall back into that dream tonight, so I simply hold them.

* * *

to be continued 


	15. Mystery

Emancipation

Thanatos-Aire

* * *

XV. Mystery.

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.

"It's Sunday morning, d'you know how crowded it's going to be?"

Duo snorts, "Not if we go grocery shoppin' at the warehouse by the church on the othe' side o' town. It'll be empty 'cause everyone's at mass." It's true -- that side of town was all devout Catholics, unlike where we live, so they wouldn't have to worry about traffic or anything. He grins, flicking his fringe out of his eyes. "Don't worry, darlin', we won't be gone long. I promise not to let Tro-babe ride the shopping trolley into a display case again."

Trowa raises an unamused brow at me as I chuckle. We all know just who really performed that stunt and caused us to be late to Wufei's birthday get-together because of the police report the store filed.

"Sure you don't want to come with?" Trowa asks evenly as they slip into their jackets.

I shake my head, "There're still chores to be done and I have yet to finish that expense report for Unn." He shrugs and tilts his head in half of a nod and they both kiss my cheeks with a chorused goodbye before closing the front door behind them. I sigh, running a hand through my hair, and stand there until I hear the truck disappear down the street.

Then it's to the laptop, armed with spacenet access, a vid-phone, and no chance of being interrupted. My nightmares last night on training gave me a possible lead to follow on Trowa's list and I was not about to waste this opportunity to follow them.

"… Zero-One?"

I nod and the older man frowns some more. "Doktor S, I wanted to ask you some questions."

He gives me a suspicious look but shifts into a comfortable position. "About…?"

"Trowa."

"… By that, I'm assuming you're referring to Zero-Three and not Dekim's son?" I nod again curtly, knowing it is an odd request and that my blank face is giving him no answers as to why I need information. "Very well. What would you like to know?"

An hour later, we sign off and I begin the process of hiding the evidence of the call. Hidden enough to not be noticed, but not enough that it would be suspicious… The entire time, however, my mind is not on the task. Rather, it is on dissecting the peculiar slip S had made.

I asked about Tro's nightmares, about his relationships, about his demeanour and behaviour, anything I could think of that would possibly help lead me somewhere. I learned little, as apparently Tro had only spent three years on L-3 and wasn't noticed by S until he became Heavyarms's pilot halfway through that. But S had made another mention of the 'real' Trowa, the one mine had stolen his name from.

I knew the story of how he'd become a Gundam pilot, remembered the whispers in my ear back in Sicily two days before meeting up with Lieutenant Noin as we laid nestled in the truck cab awaiting sleep. S had spoken of it, but there was something more to it, I know; I'm not sure if he was just suspicious of something or if he knew and wasn't telling me, but…

It cannot simply be about his name. Tro's over that bridge, he has a name now -- and if he didn't, he knows the four of us would be willing to share ours. And I know it is not that he feels guilty about stealing the Gundam -- that precious suit of armour meant as much to him as the cause did, and we all felt that way. But still, there's something missing.

S did give me one other thing to ponder, however, and it's something at least a little more concrete: Tro never spoke the whole first year he worked at the base. It was common knowledge among them all that the fourteen year-old mechanic who just showed up one day didn't talk. By the time he became the pilot, he was just as vocal as he is now.

Peculiar. But I'm willing to bet that Barton had something to do with it. Despite the mercenary troops and his connection to Unn, which I still have not placed, most of my Tro's mystery seems to be centred around that first year in L-3.

Now that I have a lead, hopefully I'll get somewhere in my research and he can be as clean as Duo soon.

* * *

to be continued

.

.

Er, yeah, I know. It's been an insane amount of time since this way updated. Hopefully now that I finished the chapter I was having problems with (evil writer's block) the updates will be more regular again. Aire 3


	16. Fun

_Ay yi yi, I haven't updated in a bajillion years. This is what I was afraid of, leaving this hanging forever 'cause I can't get some scene right. Bad Aire, no pocky for you. It's just, this is going in some really awkward directions for me and I'm not sure I can really go that far without it becoming grindhouse-porn or something, so I don't want to work on it and/or entertain the idea of rewriting most of it. Grg. But I'm forcing myself to finish this damned thing. Maybe I'll change it to my Nano project... Anyway, I reread everything so far, posted or not (I _am_ a few chapters ahead), and... I didn't realise it was so emo-bunny-sex. {sweatdrop} I'll fix that in a few chapters. Trapezey has some angst issues to deal with for a while first (which is part of the whole uncomfortable subplot thing; Duo drives me farking crackers.)_

.

Emancipation

Thanatos-Aire

XVI. Fun

.

I'm halfway through dialling Unn's home vid-phone when my other two-thirds arrive back from shopping. I cut the connection quickly and scurry to help bring in the groceries.

Trowa's flushed in embarrassment as he hauls in some fruit crates past me and ducks into the kitchen, so I turn to Duo with a raised brow. He gives me that sheepish chuckle that tells me it's his fault, and says, "It was just a joke!"

I harrumph and step outside to grab the box they've filled with juice cartons, and I take it from the truck into the kitchen. "For the last time, Duo," Trowa's deadpanning as I walk in, "I am not from Nantucket." He's kneeling before the open refrigerator and putting the fruits and vegetables away, the loudmouth standing at the island sorting through boxes of food.

Duo snorts and hands him the bag of raw green string beans to tuck away in the fridge drawer. "I know, but like, you're an acrobat! Surely you can bend--"

"Duo," I cut in, in what he calls my 'knock it off' voice. He bites his lip and nods, then flips his braid over a shoulder and head out for more groceries.

I give the juice to Tro with a curious look. He shakes his head, obviously too flustered to relate the 'joke' onto me, and finishes with the fridge quickly. As he stands, I pause from my trek back out to the truck so that I could admire his lean form unfolding. He catches me looking and I offer a lopsided smile; he follows me back out with a tiny embarrassed mirror of it.

Duo's got his arms full to the brim and Tro steals a bag from him before he loses it. The braided clown just shrugs it off with a grin and skips leaningly back inside the house. My taller lover and I are left with the last of the stuff and closing up the truck, and we do so silently.

As much as it is usual for our time together to be quiet, today it seems slightly uncomfortable. I am thinking about my call to Doktor S and he is probably still thinking of whatever dirty joke Duo told him on the ride back from the store, but even so, it's not a reason for this strain. The tension's only subtle but it wasn't there earlier I don't think, so… I don't know. I've got too much to think about already.

So I let it go and we share the unusually taut silence until meeting up with Duo again in the kitchen. He's bent over at the waist, digging through a bag and mumbling to himself as his stomach growls. Trowa immediately turns away at the sight of our partner's rear up in the air, trying to hide his blush, which tells me it must have been a very filthy joke indeed. He's not usually so sensitive to that.

"Ah ha!" Duo stands up, a jar of peanut butter in hand as he grins. "I dunno 'bout you guys, but I'm hungry and it's lunchtime so I say we eat." Trowa makes a noncommittal grunt and continues to stash the groceries away as the shortest of us rips open the jar and dips his finger into the spread. "Yum!"

"Maxwell!" I admonish, throwing a spoon at him. He hums with a grin around the mouthful of peanut butter but chuckles and hops up two steps towards me to swipe his greasy finger down my nose. Trowa pauses, wide eyes revealing his disbelief at the action.

Duo breaks out into a grin. "Ah, c'mon, darlin', don't give me that Death Glare o' yours, look, I'll do it to Tro and you'll be even!" He spins, hand outstretched, but Tro ducks and slides under his arm to stand behind me. There's a tiny smile playing on his lips though, so I shove him back right into Duo, who gives him a streak of peanut butter across his face, from cheek to jawline.

He purses his lips in a mock frown, eyes dancing again with amusement, and he mutters something vulgar in French while lunging for the peanut butter. I cannot help but laugh as they wrestle each other to the floor for the jar. Long flailing legs, a flying braid, some curses, a bruised funny bone, and a pair of yelps is enough to get my mind off everything else, and I jump in whole-heartedly.

Pretty soon, we're sprawled half-naked on the kitchen floor. Duo's humming something light and flitty as he traces designs into Trowa's stomach, painting it with the peanut butter. As he kneels over our shared European pilot, I've got wings sketched out on Duo's pale back, the tan spread smearing as I kiss the feathertips.

"So--" Tro manages, wriggling under our American, "does this count as lunch?"

* * *

to be continued--


	17. Play

Emancipation

Thanatos-Aire

XVII. Play.

.

Staring up at Trowa as he kneels over me, we lock eyes and I can feel the heat rise exponentially. He leans in, hand cradling my head to tilt it, and our mouths fasten together.

The clinking of metal alerts me to Duo's presence and I feel myself pulled up to sit on long thighs, my legs wrapping around Trowa's waist. I watch as they meet for a kiss, a deep one if our shared redhead's breathy moan is any indication. My hands are drawn back to cross at the small of my back, and the cool metal makes me jump, trying to pull away.

"Sh," Duo murmurs with a grin as he nuzzles my cheek. He leans over my shoulder behind me to grab Tro's chin and take another long moment to french him even as he still closes the handcuffs around my wrists. I look to Tro, for permission or help I don't know, but he's got the jar of peanut butter in his own hands and a decidedly happy smile on his face.

"Oh ho, you're evil!" Duo crows with a smirk. All I can think is Oh Shit.

The two attack me with the peanut butter, smearing it down my chest with teasing fingers. Caught between them, I can only writhe as a nipple is lathered in the spread. Then a questing tongue – Tro seems adventurous today, lucky me…

I bite my lower lip, toes curling at the foreplay. Four hands touching me is not unusual, but the smooth glide of the food makes my skin more sensitive and I cannot help the low drawn-out moan Duo wrings from my throat as his hands slide between my legs. "Talk to me, darlin'," he orders, circling the entrance to my body with a well-covered finger.

Great, he's feeling kinky too. I never understood his fetish with listening to the two of us speak during sex, and I never really liked having to focus on forming words while my attention could be elsewhere. Like on Trowa's hot mouth on my throat, suckling a hickey there amidst the tan spread. So I shake my head, bringing more of my lip in between my teeth, and close my eyes. Why do they always gang up on me? Not that I really mind all that much…

"Oh? Going to be like that then?" he hums, practically overjoyed at my refusal. "Well, lesse if I can make you then…"

The handcuffs rattle as I struggle against their hands, yanking at the metal restraints. Duo had closed them pretty tight, knowing how uncomfortable I am being captured like this between them. Monkey-in-the-middle is not my favourite position thank you very much.

A long hand caresses my hip before moving back to grasp Duo's thigh. He in turn has a hand groping at Tro's pecs, even as he teases me relentlessly. They kiss over my shoulder again as Duo moves his one hand down to jerk Tro off gently, and I mewl as he pushes closer, sliding between my cheeks. I yank at the cuffs again, shaking my head and arching back into him, unable to do much else.

I manage to twist a leg up and stroke Tro's back with a foot, toes groping at his shoulder-blade which – as we've all found out quite amusedly – is one of his best erogenous zones. He gasps, arcing towards me to press our torsos together, the peanut butter smearing onto his belly. He ducks his head to lick teasing circles into my shoulder and I buck as Duo moves inside at the same time. He crooks his finger, searching, and I roll my hips like I could really get away.

"Ah ah ahh," Duo taunts, "What d'ya want,"

I hiss and then snarl at him, but he only chuckles and thrusts his hips into me. Tro keens, hands on our hips tightening, "Please,"

"See, Trowa can ask," I push my chest against him, leaning back into Duo's shoulder, and try to roll my hips again. My thighs are starting to ache and cramp but he won't stop until I tell him to. And so, an impasse.

Unless… I wriggle around, clenching as many muscles as I can to create friction against Duo, and he gasps. Yeah, two can play at that game.

* * *

to be continued


End file.
